Secondhand Furniture and Rented Rooms
by Whisper Gypsy
Summary: Continuation of "Gently, Softly, Lightly". Remus and Hermione's lives as they establish their bond and explore the ins and outs of the werewolf mating process. Will they be able to work it all out, or will their story end in a happily never after? Warning: heavy Ron bashing.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Due to several days of uninterrupted writing time, as well as a cooperative muse, here is the sequel to "Gently, Softly, Lightly", which I hope all the fans will enjoy. However, if you have not read that fic, you should be fine jumping in feet first here. Or at least I hope so. (Listening to Thompson Square's "Glass". Such a Remus song!)

Disclaimer: I haven't mastered this spell just yet. Keep posted for my owl. It will happen.

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

The wood floor had deep scratches from furniture being moved with little care. The carpet in front of the hearth was frayed and stained. The stove in the kitchen didn't light properly until you kicked it. The cellar was supposedly haunted, with wails and howls coming from it late at night. The pipes in the bathroom leaked, dripping all through the night with a loud plink, plink, plunk. The closet was a joke, containing barely enough space to fit Crookshanks and two wizarding cloaks. The back door wouldn't latch shut unless you propped a brick behind it. the floo needed cleaning, and there was no furniture.

But there was a large room with endless bookshelves built into the walls, and every window was large, filling the room with a bright light. Besides, having a haunted cellar was the easiest solution for securing a werewolf during the full moon. The stove shouldn't be too hard to fix, and the furniture could be brought in from elsewhere.

"It's perfect," she breathed and he smiled.

So they signed their names on the lease.

* * *

She pulled a broom from out of the back of the car, and a dustbin from the front seat. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, tickling the back of her neck. Her faded jeans matched his, as he carried a mop and bucket. Her button-down shirt belonged to Harry, curtesy of his cousin, and suited her purposes perfectly for the task they would be undertaking. He headed back into the car to grad a handful of rags, soap, and an armamentarium of dusters. When he opened the front door to walk in -it creaked- he saw her already at work, using the broom to shake cobwebs out of corners of the ceiling. Settling his bounty on the floor in the center of the room, he joined her in cleaning the walls.

By the end of the day, the living room was clean, and the fireplace was in working order. The kitchen had been swept down, but the scrubbing would be saved for tomorrow. The man stretched, relieving the aching muscles he had cramped. "Remind me why we're doing this without magic, again?"

She smiled at him, if a bit tiredly. "This way it's our home. We'll know every corner, and we also have the sense of almost having built it, I think." She scratched at the back of her neck for the twentieth time that day, smudging dust and soot along her skin.

"Of course. It is perfect, isn't it?" He was lying in the middle of the bare floor, looking around at the empty spaces they would soon fill.

She settled down beside him, lying her head onto his chest. "I love it, Remus. It's wonderful." She smiled up at him, and moved to kiss him.

* * *

Once the house had been fully scrubbed and pronounced clean, the couple went to move their own furniture in. It took one day to pack all their books into Hermione's endless bag and put them up on the shelves at their new place -especially since Sirius told them they could have any book in his family library they wanted. And no one tells Hermione Granger she can have all the books she wants without having to follow through.

They each brought their things from their own bedrooms on the following day. Before they moved the beds into the two bedrooms, Hermione pulled Remus aside to talk. "So," she began diplomatically, "what do you want the sleeping arrangements to be?"

The werewolf froze, eyes wide. He coughed, cheeks tinged with pink. "Well, I um... I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I'll only ever ask for what you're ready for, Hermione. But, it would be nice for you to sleep beside me sometimes. Nothing else, just some company, you know?'"

And it was settled. Hermione's things were put into her room, and Remus' things into his. But, if one were to open the third drawr of Remus' dresser, they would find two sets of pajamas which clearly didn't belong to him. But, of course, no one would be rude enough to do such snooping.

* * *

Once the furniture was in place, Hermione and Remus had all their friends -their magical family- come over to see the new home. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were exploring the bedroomsa nd living rooms while Remus was letting Padfoot sniff out any problems in the cellar, magically repairing them, and then going over the space again, just to be sure. Harry smiled before saying, "It suits the both of you. Hum, uh, two bedrooms, then?"

"I'm not explaining anything to you, Harry. So stop hinting at it." Hermione looked away, trying not to blush. She and Remus had only settled those matters between themselves this morning.

Harry laughed. "Fine, fine. I'm gonna go make sure Padfoot is house-trained. Meet you in the kitchen in a few?" And with that the boy-who-lived ran from Hermione's bedroom and down to the cellar.

Ron trailed his fingers across her red bedspread -the one her parents had bought for her when she told them her house colors- and the golden sheets. "Are you sure you want to try this, 'Mione?"

"Of course, Ronald. I've thoguht this through, and am analyzing it as rationally as I can, given all the emotions involved. I have wanted to be with Remus for a long time. And the best way for us to figure out how to be us, is to do it apart from all the mess going on at Headquarters, right now."

"Oh. Well, I didn't mean this dumpy, old place, 'Mione. I meant are you sure you want to settle down with Remus? I mean, sure he was a brilliant professor, and all, but even you could do better than that."

Hermione was later surprised by how accurately her fist met Ronald's nose, given all the tears she had been looking through.

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E/N: Well, here it is. The end of the beginnning of a new fic, which is really not too new. Just the same, I'd love to hear from you in a wonderful review! Hate it, love it, meh. Feedback is my helpmeet! (I hope everyone who loved Gently, Softly, Lightly is more than happy with this beginning.)

Gypsy


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: SO glad everyone is enjoying this sequel; I hope you will continue to do so. Warning: severe Ron bashing ahead. (Totally on Sirius' team for some of this…) Enjoy!

Disclaimer: If this were mine, I wouldn't need to blow out my birthday candles and watch for shooting stars anymore.

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Chapter Two

* * *

Padfoot's large form shifted and became Sirius. "I'm happy for you mate. You've found your Lily. I mean, she's a lot younger, but…" Both men froze, hearing Harry clomping down the stairs. "I'm still amazed that boy was never caught wandering around Hogwarts late at night, with all the noise he makes."

Remus chuckled, "Well, we do have the benefit of canine hearing, Pads."

Harry tumbled into the cellar, and smiled up at the men he considered his uncles and friends. "Hey, Remus, you got any food in this place? I'm starving. I might be able to tuck away a small hippogriff, if you've got one."

The men headed up the stairs, laughing. "No, Harry. No hippogriffs in my pantry. Actually, we haven't got any groceries yet. There's a list on the—" Remus stopped midsentence and turned his head towards Hermione's room.

The sound of a small sob and then flesh meeting flesh pierced the air. Remus was already moving towards her door when Sirius and Harry began following him.

* * *

"Ron!" Hermione swung her fist towards him again, but he caught both her wrists in a rough grasp. "How could you ever think something like that? I love him, Ronald! Let go of me and get out of my home! Let go, Ron! Let me go!" With each cry, she tried to yank her arms free of his bruising grip, but he only held on tighter, lips clenched in a snarl.

"Shut up, 'Mione! You know you don't me—," Ron cut off as Remus burst through the door. Remus grabbed Ron's wrists, thumbs digging into the tender space between his ulna and radius, causing the redhead to let go of Hermione. She quickly backed away, cradling her arms to her chest, sobs wracking her body, breaths coming in panted gasps. Remus ground his thumbs in once more before tossing Ron towards the doorway and into Sirius' waiting arms.

Remus' eyes flashed as he glared at the boy. "You do not touch her. Get out of my house. Now."

Sirius backed out the door, dragging the livid Weasley boy with him, and Harry followed, closing the door as they left.

Remus turned to Hermione and knelt beside her. "Hermione?"

She flinched at the anger still evident in his voice and continued stroking the bruises already forming, painting purple fingerprints all down her arms, trying to make them disappear.

Remus sighed. "Talk to me, love. As much as I would love to go tear into that git right now, I'd rather hold you. Come here," he whispered. He moved closer to her and cradled her trembling body closer. Settling her onto his lap, he began rocking her, gently kissing her head, arms tightly binding her to him.

Her voice broke as she spoke, "I'm sorry."

* * *

"Ron! What were you thinking? What the—," Harry started.

Sirius slammed Ron's face into the wall, delighting in the heavy sound it made. Slamming him once more for good measure, he walked on to the front door, which stood open as the new layer of blue paint was drying on it, and tossed him out. "You leave them both the fuck alone until you grow up, Weasley, and you're invited back by both of them. They are my family. You hurt either of them again, and I will kill you. I've already had my stay in Azkaban, so I may as well commit the crime. Now go."

Ron scrambled away, dribble of blood spilling down the side of his face.

"Sirius…" Harry began.

"No, Harry." Sirius spun and faced his godson. "I know he's your best mate and all, but Remus is mine, and Hermione was the first one to treat me like a person after Azkaban. She put everything on the line to help me escape, got me pardoned, and helped Remus and you get me out of the Veil. You three are family to me. Ron had better respect that, or I will kill him."

Harry sighed. "Sirius, I just got you back. And it's hard enough mediating between Hermione and Ron; please don't add yourself into the mix." Harry ran hi hands through his hopelessly messy hair. "They're always going off at it, Sirius. He'll say something stupid, she'll cry. He'll be oblivious, she'll hex him. He'll apologize, and then she forgives him. This has been happening the entire time we've known each other. It's how they became friends in the first place."

Sirius' gaze never left his godson's face. "Has it ever been this bad?"

Harry paused. "No. He's never done anything like this before."

Sirius nodded. "Then I reserve the right to kill him."

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REVIEW!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you to all my reviewers, including the anonymous ones I was unable to PM back. Your reviews mean so much to me! BTW, new poll on my profile; please check it out and vote!

Disclaimer: I own only the computer I am typing this on. Even the internet signal I am using belongs to someone else. Urgh.

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Chapter Three

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"Alright, so you grabbed the list from the cool box, right?" Sirius nodded tersely to his godson's question, mouth clenched tightly. Harry sighed. "Sirius, please, don't be mad at me. I know he's been a right git this time, but he's never known when his foot's been in his mouth before. It usually gets to the point where his nose is in his groin before he figures it out. Hermione was right to punch him, and Remus was right to toss him out. But you can't kill him, Sirius."

Harry had stopped walking, and Sirius just noticed, pausing midstride and turning to look at the doppelganger for his dead best mate.

"I can't lose you again, Sirius."

The quiet whisper broke Sirius' resolve. His eyes moved from the tortured emerald ones framed by thin, black glasses and topped with a crop of messy black hair down to the cracked cement at his feet. "I know. And you won't. But he has to know how seriously I mean this, Harry. He cannot hurt the ones I love. The last time someone…" Sirius bit his lip, eyes pinching shut as remorse flooded him.

Harry moved across the distance separating him from his godfather. He placed his hand on Sirius' arm and said, "I forgive you. Now let's go get those groceries."

Sirius opened his eyes, blinking away tears and memories of a rat.

* * *

She curled into his arms tightly, sobbing quietly now. Her hands were now gripping his shirt, as his one free hand was gently smoothing up and down her bruises, trying to offer what comfort he could. "I'm here, love. It's alright, I'm here."

Remus was at a loss. What could he say to her to make everything better? Not that it would ever be better, she and Ron would always have that rift between them now. And Remus didn't think he would ever be able to be even civil with the prat. But his focus now was his mate, Hermione.

"Hermione, love. How can I help you? What do you need, love? Tell me how to help you." Remus rocked her back and forth, nose buried in her hair, words whispering into her ears, calming the young witch.

"R-Remus? H-hold me, please. Just hold m-me."

And so he did.

* * *

"You two were going to do WHAT?" Molly Weasley's voice carried throughout the topsy-turvy house she called home, causing the sign pronouncing the address "The Burrow" to spin in the ground. Fred and George glanced at each other, wincing together. George placed a tender hand over his absent ear, trying to protect it from the sound attack, but failing. "They've only just gotten settled, and Merlin knows I want them both to be happy. They each deserve it after all that's happened, especially with her parents being gone and all, but really boys. You were going to feed them lust potions?"

"No, Mum," Fred began.

"We would never. We were simply going to give lemon cupcakes—," George continued.

"—to the lovely couple. Now, Remus hates lemon, so only Hermione would have eaten them."

Molly couldn't have looked angrier if steam were coming out from her ears and nostrils. "You were going to feed Hermione a love potion and then what?"

Both boys blushed fiercely. "Well, Mum," George started.

"We sort of thought they could handle it from there."

"No reason for us to get involved."

"Private matters. Wouldn't dare to stick our noses—,"

"—or any other odd bits—,"

"—into it."

Molly threw her hands up into the air, exasperated, and stormed off into the garden to find Arthur. The twins quickly apparated to their flat above their 93 Diagon Alley shop, relieved to have gotten off with such a light tongue-lashing.

The lemon cupcakes remained on the kitchen table, unsupervised.

* * *

"Bugger them both then."

Ron cocked his head back, trying to blink away the tears pricking at them, fingers massaging the goose egg on his forehead. He muttered under his breath, but not to himself. A small beetle buzzed by his ear, whispering little things to the boy, planting seeds that had already borne fruit.

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Ooooh, my twist appears! Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry it's been so long, but work has really been picking up and I come home planning to write, only to crash! My biggest apologies. Lucky for you, this came to me as I woke up this morning, exactly as you read it here. And a good thing too, since I will be celebrating my best friend's 21st today, so this is it for the weekend!

Disclaimer: I own a Calla Lily plant, 14 chickens, a small herb garden, two flourishing grape vines, a small vegetable garden, and a lovely little wood, and the two loaves of chocolate chip banana bread still baking in the oven. Can I be a Weasley, then?

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Chapter Four

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She woke up feeling exhausted and drained, as one often does after crying themselves to sleep. Her eyes blearily came to focus on the strange white object in front of her. It had buttons running down it, and it was moving back from her and then closer, doing some dance forward and back. It wasn't moving much, but just enough that when it came closer, she went a bit cross-eyed. Still puzzled by the strange thing in front of her, she reached her hands out and obeyed her instincts. She unbuttoned the buttoned thing.

Her opening of the strange cloth revealed a scarred and tanned chest, with a trail of thick hair going from an innie belly button down into a pair of jeans, and another clump of hair closer to a throat, which seemed to be swallowing. She returned her eyes to the chest, her still tear-weary brain trying to understand what was in front of her.

Her hands moved up to trace the scars, but a little voice in her head urged her to taste the raised areas of skin. So she leaned her head forward and licked along one that cut across three ribs. The chest pulled tightly back in a severe inhale, and in her periphery she could make out a clenching fist. A satisfied smile tinted across her lips, and she rolled the chest over, moving to straddle the man in her bed.

She moved her mouth across his chest, tongue taking the time to taste each mar on his flesh as she found it. He lay stiffly, allowing her to do so, eager for her to continue. She moved up to his throat at last, and stroked her tongue along a tender spot below his jaw, causing him to push her away and leap from the bed, heading to the door.

"Remus?" she asked in a small, dazed voice, thick with sleep and long-shed tears. "Don't go. I… I can't let you push me away after you said you were ready and would wait for me to be." She stood up from the bed and walked over to him, fingers removing his shirt from his arms. "Well, Remus," she continued. Her hands dropped the shirt and she placed her palms onto the small dips in his back just above his pants line. "I'm ready." She leaned forward and kissed the place between her hands, before poking her tongue out, and trailing it slowly up his spine, hands ghosting gently up his back in tandem with her lips.

A groan eased from the werewolf's mouth, kissing her eardrums. She finally reached his neck, standing on her tip toes, and moved her hands from where they had gone up to his shoulders and began trailing them gently down his arms. She pulled him around and tucked his hands under her shirt. Her hands lifted her jumper over her head, tossing it into some quickly forgotten corner, before travelling back to his neck, pulling his face closer to hers to kiss. His trembling hands caressed her breasts, cupping them gently through her plain cotton bra. He moved his hands around her to the center of her back, reaching for the clasp that wasn't there. She chuckled into his mouth, stroking his tongue with her own and took his hands in her own, bringing them to the clasp between her breasts, teasing him for having missed it.

His fingers fumbled as they opened the clasp, spilling her bare breasts into his hands. She gasped throatily, pulling away from his mouth and arching her neck back. Her shoulders shrugged off the bra as his fingers played with the puckered flesh, as Remus walked her back to the bed. She tumbled onto it when her knees hit the frame, pulling him onto her. His mouth trailed hot kisses along her jaw and neck, even stopping to trace his tongue along the shell of her ear.

"Remus," she managed to gasp, toes curling in her long woolen socks. He bit gently down on the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder, nibbling in a semicircle, marking her.

She moaned deeply, wrapping her legs around his waist, rubbing for something, feeling empty. Desperate for whatever it was, she rolled them over, so she straddled him, her nipples rubbing with a pleasant friction along the hair on his chest. She ducked her body down, moving her parted legs over something thick and warm just where she wanted it, tongue lapping insistently at his neck.

Her new movements had him thrusting helplessly beneath her once, twice, three times. She moaned against his shoulder, biting down on it and grinding herself onto him, powerless against the warm clenching she felt deep within.

"Hermione," he groaned out as she rubbed against him once more. Her breaths were coming short gasps now, building up to something delicious, but she didn't know what it was. "Let go, love. I'll catch you," he whispered, arms gripping her hips in a fierce pull and tug against the most demanding piece of him.

Her mouth formed a small "o" of surprise as it broke over her, her whole body trembling and gasping, rubbing against him in uncontrollable motions. His fingers dug into her with a sweet curse as he rocked against her one last time, jaw unclenching as he followed. She sighed as her body collapsed along his, riding out the aftershocks, only noticing the sheen of sweat on her limbs and torso as his breath raised goose bumps on the slick flesh.

Once she could breathe again, she raised her head, hair tumbling in all directions, to meet his sated gaze. A blush tinged her cheeks, but she smiled, "Did we just…?"

"Yes." He moved her in his arms, bringing her closer. He began peppering kisses along her jaw, tongue trailing out to lick the salt from her body.

She moaned, moving closer. "And did you…too?"

"Yes." He moved to the other side of her neck.

"But we didn't even…" Her breaths were coming in shorter spurts again.

"Yes." He moved and kissed her in the valley between her breasts, before trailing his tongue from her sternum up to the hollow of her throat.

"Oh." He gave her a cocky grin as her moans grew, and they moved against one another again.

* * *

E/N: *fans self* So, how was it? Review!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Long time no chat. Real life hates me. In the good news column, I have the cat I have wanted all my life! Her name is Quidditch and she purrs for every reviewer! Has a little Ravenclaw collar. Merlin, I need help…

Disclaimer: I can now say I own Quidditch. *YESSSSS! Does Carlton dance*

* * *

Chapter Five

* * *

Click. Click. Click.

Her wings clacked together as she stepped delicately over the bridge of his nose. His lips were pursed in sleep, puffing out little breaths of air, his eyeballs dancing wildly under his thin, greenish-blue eyelids. She crossed under his eye and over into his hair just before his large hand came up and rubbed across the itch her tickling feet had made on his freckled nose. He snorted and she moved from his ginger hair over to his ear, clicking her wings as she tucked herself just beside his ear canal, and began whispering in a saccharine tone.

* * *

"Pasta?" Harry asked.

"Check." Sirius replied. "What else?"

"Sauce?"

"Yup."

"Cheese?"

"Uh-huh."

Chocolate?"

"Duh. It's Moony's house, except now there's a bird there too. I stocked up twice what I usually do. Next."

"Umm, alright… Bell peppers?"

"No. I hate those. We'll forget that. How about squash instead?"

Harry looked up from the list, one eyebrow arching into his fringe, burying his scar in the messy black locks. "Squash?"

"Yeah, it's a food that just begs you to play with it. I mean, there's the name, which tells you where to start. Come on, produce is this way right?"

Harry sighed and followed behind his godfather. "Just know that I'll be telling Hermione I had _nothing_ to do with the changes made to her shopping list. I like my bollocks just as they are, thanks."

Sirius scoffed.

* * *

Remus lay back on his pillow, arms surrounding his mate, pulling her closer, relishing in the simple sensation of her flesh against his. His body hair was raising gooseflesh across her lighter skin, and the rough pads of his fingers toyed with the new landscape as though nothing else mattered. His mind wasn't even focused on anything beyond the way her lips pursed as she slept.

He smiled, inner wolf moving to the surface. He leaned over her, licking over the love bites he had made in her tender flesh as he had claimed her. His grin became a little feral as he leaned forward and caressed the purple and red bruises on her skin. His teeth punctured the flesh, almost like a whisper or an apology. She cried out, even in her passed out state, twitching away from the pain instinctually.

He sucked her copper-tanged blood into his mouth, familiarizing his wolf with its nuances, scents, textures, colors, and flavors. His tongue slid over the abrasions, his saliva suturing her flesh with all the care of a wolf for his mate.

"Hush, Hermione. There will be time in the morning. Sleep now, rest and gather your strength for the coming tide. I will be here." He sniffed her bushy hair deeply, lightly tugging the strands in his fingers.

"Always."

* * *

Hermione swore to herself she had to be dreaming. The man whispering sweet things in her ear couldn't be real. But then again, there were all those delicious aches all over her body too...

* * *

Please Review! PS, for those who wanted the lemon, review and I might post it in the following chapter (with appropriate warnings, etc.)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I apologize for the previous confusion. I posted the rough draft, rather than the correct file, since I had apparently failed to save the changes. My only possible offer of apology is that I wasn't feeling well. So, part of this may be rather familiar to some of you. Most especially I want to thank 1945, who pointed out something was wrong to me in her review, causing me to check on just what havoc I had wrought. Thanks and I am truly sorry for disappointing you. PM me if you had any questions. The lemon IS included, despite the prior threat.

Disclaimer: This is just as much mine as sunshine.

Warning: Adult language and adult scenes are present, and adult readers are the only ones that I recommend read this. Basically, unless you fall on the proper side of the age of majority, stop reading here. IF you continue to read, then on your own heads be it.

* * *

Chapter Six

* * *

Hermione nudged closer to Remus, delighting in the way his lips traveled over hers. Her body still shook with latent tremors from her first orgasm, and she was eager for more. His hands were rough against her flesh, thrilling the nerve endings with foreign delights. "Remus," she whispered turning his name into a plea, a prayer, a demand. "Just… Please… Oh, Merlin!"

A low chuckle answered her cries. "Not quite, love. And no more calling out other mens' names when I'm taking your trousers off." Hermione turned bright red, flustered and pulled back a bit. Moony growled low, amber light filtering into the irises as he lowered his lips to her collarbone, hands finishing tugging her trousers from her ankles.

She leaned forward, hands itching to stroke his back again, and brought her lips to his ear. She chuckled a bit nervously and whispered, "Moony, I'm your mate. You are the only one I want to be thinking about, and the only one I want to have taking my trousers off."

During this impromptu speech, Moony arrived at the logical decision that Remus was moving too fucking slowly.

His hands traced the shallow dips and fuller curves of her silhouette, pressing fingers along her flesh, gauging her sighs as a series of locks opening, echoed through her parted legs as she invited him closer.

Remus smiled, a wholesome sense of glee flooding his person as he helped her greedy fingers shift his own trousers from where they sat on his hips down to the floor.

"Come closer, Moony." And he did, lips pressing into her neck, the valley between her breasts, and lastly the dip of her navel.

"Sit up," he whispered to her, arms bringing her body closer to his. He moved the two of them back onto the bed, and moved his lips to her mouth. He pushed his tongue against hers, allowing the two muscles to pulse and contract against each other in gentle strokes. His hands dipped into her knickers, pressing gently, discovering and feeling her tense around him. "Hush, love."

He pulled her knickers off, and shucked his boxers down his legs, pressing his heated flesh against hers.

Hermione whimpered lightly, arching up against him. He moved along her for a moment, lips tracing the hollow beneath her ear, and whispering sweet words before moving to align himself with her. He moved his mouth over hers and teased her tongue with his, teasing her lower lips with another part of himself. She smiled at him and thrust her tongue into his mouth, kissing him with fervor.

Moony growled and thrust forward, burying himself in her.

They spent a moment breathing and adjusting. When she started kissing him again, he began to move, eliciting moans from the both of them.

They continued in the erotic dance, each taking turns leading, whimpering and moaning and whispering beautiful nothings at each other. Hermione felt a warmth coiling within her, contracting around the heat which was him.

He could feel her shifting, searching for something beyond her comprehension and gave a tight smile, moving them more quickly to the precipice. She was panting beneath him, coated in nothing but him, her hair, and a sheen of sweat, head thrown back, fingers digging into his arms. His hands were gripping at her hips as though letting go might end his life.

Instinct cause his mouth to leave hers and travel down to her shoulder. His teeth worried her flesh, raising goosebumps, before his tongue soothed them back down. He moved, thrusting harder into her at the same moment his teeth shifted and buried themselves into her tender neck. She cried out, climaxing around him, dizzy and confused. His teeth gripped her firmly in place, his hips pistoning as he spilled within her, a heady groan forcing its way past his clamped teeth. When he could breathe again, he moved his teeth from her shoulder, and kissed along the bruised flesh gently, moving the tangled hair out of her face.

She was asleep. He smiled and moved away just long enough to gather a blanket and curl up behind her. Soon they were both asleep.

* * *

Ron shuffled around his small flat, pottering between the bathroom as he moved groggily and the kitchen where a charmed tea kettle was already whistling for him.

His feet whispered along the wood flooring, creating a small scuffing sound, but he didn't notice as it was drowned out by his jaw popping in a large yawn. His left hand moved to the small of his back, scratching at an itch between his red boxers and his white wife beater.

He moved the kettle onto a hotplate and charmed it to pour tea into his cup. While blearily rubbing sleep from his eyes, he failed to notice that the kettle had been overgenerous and had filled his saucer as well. He dipped his fingertips into the scalding liquid as he went to take a revitalizing sip and screamed bloody murder as he ran to the sink to cool his burn, leaving the delicate china to tremble to the floor on its own.

The beetle fluttered after him, and then quickly shifted shape into her human form. "Well, and aren't you a glorious specimen in the mornings, Mr. Weasley. Are you ready for our chat?"

"Bloody hell."

* * *

Fred saluted George as the passed on another in the stairway. Fred reached the top of the stairs, turned around and marched back down them, passing George's own return trek to the top of the stairs. This cyclic motion continued for several long minutes in much the same manner it had been continuing for the past hour or so.

George was the first to break. He sat down on the middle step—number seven—and pouted. Fred sighed and moved his brother's bum over with his foot, and sat down beside him. "So, Gred. Will it be degnoming or ironing, d'you suppose?"

"Well, the lecture is a given. And we'll probably have to step up our grandchild-producing years by about five."

"Five altogether, or five each, totaling ten?" George's face appeared void of color, and his brown freckles seemed painted on.

Another loud shout and several grunts came from the room at the foot of the second staircase. Both boys grimaced and moved up five seats to the much safer number twelve, just shy of the top step.

"Well, on the bright side, they still love each other…"

"They've always loved each other. That's not a bright side here, it's a constant. The bright side is that they're occupied, giving us adequate time to plan our escape."

Another loud shout, which sound alarmingly like "Mollywobbles", bled around the crevices of the master bedroom's door.

George hastily gestured for Fred to perform another silencing charm. "Well, maybe they'll thank us…"

Fred grimaced, and glanced down at his watch. "We left them out last night. And they've not left the room since then. It's now five in the evening. I'm just sickened that Dad's got more stamina than the two of us put together, even with the added bits in the cupcakes... Completely kipped me off my dinner."

George nodded to his green-looking twin.

"Wanna go and see what Sirius' up to?"

And the rest of their night was planned, decided, and acted upon before the most recent silencing charm could wear off.

* * *

Sirius moved into the kitchen quickly, and set Harry to boiling water for the pasta. "Won't Hermione want to be doing this, Sirius?"

"Nonsense, Harry. Witches hate being sent to cook or be in the kitchen, dear Molly being the exception. Remember that."

Harry gaped at a spot on the kitchen wall over the steam rising from the pot of water. "Sirius?" he asked in a very bewildered tone of voice. "Are you sure that you know what you're—"

"Of course, Harry. Beside, witches love surprises, and love it when you do things for them."

Harry dutifully watched his pot of boiling water as Sirius hummed to himself and prepared a salad. "Not the Hermione I know… She's about as different a kind of witch as ever there was. And when she hears what we've done…"

Sirius chuckled. "Harry, if they've done what I think they have, and are responsible for all the silencing charms above us, then she won't care one whit about groceries or dinner. She'll be deliriously happy, and probably very grateful that we made food. Knowing Moony, she'll probably be starving."

Harry blushed a fiery red and asked no further questions, moving instead to break the pasta and toss it in the pot, before setting the table.

* * *

E/N: Once more, my sincerest apologies! Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks for all my dear reviewers! Here is your long awaited update! Special thanks to ladyAlyafaelyn, for not only granting me her Merlin curse, but for also leaving this fic at 69 reviews on its lemon chapter. The middle schooler in me laughs at these things. Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: In the author's series, Fred is dead. I deny that reality and substitute my own. Is it still not mine, then?

* * *

"That's it, Harry, now let me show you how to check if the pasta's ready. Take a noodle from the pot, and toss it at the wall, like this." Sirius swung the limp, wet noodle as hard as he could, but it hit the mirror on the wall and not the wall.

Harry looked at his godfather, a bit dazed by the whole cooking experience, but loving every minute of their "father-son time".

"Like this?" and Harry's noodle stuck to the pale yellow wall beside the mirror with a loud smack.

"SCORE!" Sirius cheered, fists pumping into the air. "Ten points to Potter! And Black goes for another shot!" He tossed another noodle at the wall, making an "X" with Harry's noodle. Harry scooped five more noodles from the pot and began chucking them at the wall, tossing one under his leg, one behind his back and one over his head. Sirius, not to be outdone, rushed to the pot to gather more ammo. Their laughs were interrupted by the arrival of the twin gingers.

"Hello, our little doves—"

"Something smells like heaven, has Harry been cooking again?"

"That boy is a master of the cookware, Sirius, did you know?"

Sirius coughed into his hand before opening his arms wide, "Actually, Harry only made the pasta. I made the sauce."

Fred and George immediately took two steps back, filling the doorframe. "Dear god why?"

"Who? Who let-? Does Hermione know you tried to cook? In her kitchen?"

Sirius scoffed, "What do you mean, tried to cook? I just—"

At that moment a loud blast came from the pot on the stove near Harry. The boy-who-lived dove under the kitchen table, shoving chair legs out of his way. The twins slammed the door right behind them, heading for the hills—or at least the mailbox.

And Sirius Black, Prisoner of Azkaban, turned to face his enemy. The lid banged against the pot once more before flying up and over Sirius' head, splattering read sauce with chunks of garlic and squash across the walls. Fearless in the face of danger, Sirius grabbed the large wooden spoon nearby and stirred his wizard's cauldron. The pot spit and bubbled on the heat, biding its time. Sirius turned and grabbed the salt, ready to pour some in, when it happened.

A heavy crash, followed by a shrieking scream filled the house. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHMY HAIR!"

* * *

Hermione sat straight up in bed. "Oh," she mumbled, rubbing her hands along the knotted mess that was her hair. A deep chuckle from somewhere behind her drew her attention to the sated werewolf curled up against her. "Hello there, sexy."

"Hey, yourself," Remus answered.

"What was that?" Hermione glanced at the door of her bedroom in bewilderment.

Remus half sat up, ears being graced with a repeat of the earlier shriek, "IT BURNSSSSSS! WATERWATERWATERWATER!" and shook his head, shaking hair across his eyes. "I think, we should leave Sirius and your kitchen alone until your kitchen is finished having her way with him."

"What?" Hermione was fully awake now, reaching for her wand from the bedside table, but not yet leaving the bed. The large, warm arm secured around her waist had nothing to do with that, of course.

"Sirius is trying to cook, love. Wait until the endeavor has killed him, and then we can fix the mess."

"But I just painted that kitchen."

"I know. I helped. But I promise you; stay here, and live to fix it. Go there, and he will drag you down with him. I speak from experience. Lily banned the two of us from her kitchen one hour after she invited us to help make dinner."

"One hour?"

Remus sighed. "Sirius thought the oven was a demon—and tried to kill it with flour and water. AFTER Lily had set it to preheat."

"Oh. Oh my."

* * *

Harry stayed huddled under the table, eyes buried in his fists, as if by being blind to the events surrounding him, he wouldn't get hurt.

"Potter! I know you're still bloody here! Help me battle this fucking pot and send it back to hell!"

Harry peeked from between his hands and saw his godfather's ankles standing a foot away from him. "But, Sirius, it's just a pot. Just turn the stove off. Move the pot into the sink. Then I'll come help you clean up the mess. I swear."

Harry waited patiently for the metallic click of the stove's knob, and for the hissing sound of the pot being set into the sink. "Is it safe?"

"Yes, it's safe, whelp. Crawl out, you little coward. Some Gryffindor you are."

"Well, back off, I'm not the one who screamed like a girl when a bit of sauce got on my head!"

"HOT sauce! Heated, on a stove, set at over 300 degrees fahrennity!"

"Fahrenheit."

"Whatever. Now how are we going to be cleaning our mess?"

"OUR mess?"

"THE mess. Now help me, brat."

A few wand waves later, and the mess had been cleaned up, the twins fetched from their hiding places outside, and six places were set at the table, dinner ladled into serving dishes. Sirius rubbed his hands together, looking to see that everything was in its place. "Now," he asked, turning to face his companions, "who'll be fetching the lovebirds for supper?"

* * *

They had all settled around the table when the door slammed open. Still dressed in his Ministry robes stood a shell-shocked Percy Weasley. "Perce?" George asked, afraid something terrible had happened.

"I—" Percy coughed to clear his throat, eyes darting around the room, as if to overwhelm themselves with stimuli so they couldn't see anything at all. "I was just at home, and Mum… hem, Mum and Dad were.. the kitchen table, Fred. Merlin's dirty pants, they were… where we EAT!"

Fred snickered, "Merlin's dirty pants? I'm so proud of you, Perce! You've begun cursing! Next georgie and I can teach about Merlin's bent coc—"

"Frederick Gideon Weasley!" Hermione's irate voice silenced the twin, but didn't stifle his grin.

George went on for him, "But, Perce, are they really still going at it?"

Fred chimed in, "Like rabbits?"

Percy looked green.

* * *

E/N: So? Worth the wait?


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: So, I've updated more quickly this time, and I've decided there will only be, possibly two more chapters to this fic. I have plans to introduce a third part to this series, but it may be a bit. No worries, you'll get your Remus and Hermione fixes somehow.

Disclaimer: This is the intellectual property of JK Rowling. I am not she. Apply logic to follow this statement through to its proper conclusion.

* * *

Ron sat on his bed, nodding at the blonde who was simpering at him. At HIM, the boy who bloody trailed along. She fancied something in him, and here she was a posh—if a bit rubbish, but still posh, mind you—journalist for the Daily Prophet. And she spent time cuddled alongside him, she cooked incredible dishes for him, and she never once complained about him. She was always praising this or that about him, and she loved talking Quidditch. And she wasn't the nicest woman to Hermione, bt it was all because she had seen what Hermione had done to Ron, all those years ago. She had seen every slight Hermione had heaped onto his plate at Hogwarts, from name-calling, scoffing, distrusting, and even some highly shrewish refusals to date him.

Who had died and named her Circe?

Rita was jabbering on about something else again, waving her vivid nails around. But they weren't green anymore. He had mentioned how they made him think of those oafish, horrid Slytherins, and instantly they were always purple. A royal color, she had called it. It suited her.

She seemed to be serious again, best pay attention before she begins explaining the strategy once more. Strategy had always been one of his strong points…

* * *

Hermione stirred the tea in her cup nervously. Ron had sent her an owl, inviting her to an apologetic tea at Madame Puddifoot's. Now, Hermione had little desire to see him again and no desire to enter that horrid excuse for a tea shop, but he was her friend and even when they were undeserved, friendship merited second chances. Or more like seventy times seventy chance for forgiveness, in Ronald's case.

At least Madame Puddifoot served nothing more than biscuits, she thought as she sipped her tea, because she honestly didn't think she could stomach anything at the moment; Sirius' pasta sauce from the night before was still plaguing her stomach. She glanced around at the ghastly little shop, waiting for his arrival. Sirius, Remus, and Harry were working on something top secret in the cellar, and she had left them to it, kissing Remus on the cheek and letting him know she'd be popping off for a bit.

They had been so wrapped up in a technical debate of sorts that he had smiled at her, nodded, and turned back to explain something to do with a whistle to his best mate. Hermione rolled her eyes even thinking of it.

"Well, well, well," came a familiar simper. "If it isn't the bitch who lived."

Hermione's doe-brown eyes lifted from dregs at the base of her cup and up to the vivid horn-rimmed glasses of Rita Skeeter. She opened her mouth to snap back at the reporter, but was hit by a rapid immobilizing spell. Rita lifted her and apparated the two into a dingy flat's kitchen. "Now my little pet, rest here a bit. I'll come along for you. Soon enough."

* * *

E/N: Reviews win my affection, your honesty and endearing personalities win my love. And in other news, Happy Yom Kippur!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Well, it's been a bit, but I hope you all enjoy the finish to this chapter-I WILL be continuing this series, in the new story, "Far Too Long", which will be up some time this weekend. Please check it out.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never was. Will be though. One day.

* * *

Hermione's body shook from the chill of the cellar, but her mind suffered no sluggishness from the chill or previous drugging. It was running at a million miles per hour, analyzing her whereabouts, trying to come up with some way to communicate with Remus, cataloguing her injuries, and paying some attention to the monologue Rita was spouting.

Something about "being in her prime", "jealousy" and a very bristling comment about "mousy little girls who put their noses where they didn't belong". Hermione sighed, trying unsuccessfully to unroll the cramping in her shoulders. She glanced up at her bound hands, chained to a hook above her head on the wall, probably intended for a lantern. Her knees ached from the cold, stone floor pressed against them, but her lower extremities were already numb.

"…and getting your ginger friend to help me, smash of genius, that was. Buttering up underappreciated men in key areas or roles has always been a forte of mine, though. So that should come as no surprise."

"..What?" Hermione managed around her swollen tongue. Had it reacted to the toxins in the drug? She shifted a bit and groaned as her shoulder throbbed. Had it been dislocated? Wouldn't she have felt that earlier? Wait, something about a ginger… A Weasley? Percy? "Who?"

"The Weasley, of course. Who else? He was always so close to you. And of course, to The Chosen One, but he seems to be a power-hungry little thing. As are you. You tried to steal everything from me! You locked me in a mason jar, blackmailed me, and all around made my life a living hell. You, you stupid, little girl! Why? What made you hate me? I never did anything wrong, I just told the truth… Why do you hate me?"

"The truth? No of that rubbish…. And now you've kidnapped me. You drugged me and kidnapped me. Why shouldn't I hate you?" Hermione shifted again, careful of her shoulder, trying to work feeling into her arms and legs.

"But I only did that after you ruined me! To find out why. See! I only want the truth, always, I just want the truth. Why must you hate me? Or Ron?"

_Ron?_ Hermione shifted again, wide, brown eyes staring at the insane features of the blonde woman. "Ron?"

"Yes. The truth about him is he's made for great and grand things. It's how he's helped our Mr. Potter all this time. I keep telling him that, that he's a wonderful man. I even showed him a few bedroom tricks. And Merlin knows he needed them. What, don't act surprised you little chit. You know he's always hated you."

"Ron? No… No, he's never… He would never…"

"Yes, I would," came the deep, familiar voice which accompanied his body down the stairs and into the cellar.

* * *

Remus was shouting in his mind, but Moony had taken over. "Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. Hermione." It was like a broken record playing in his mind, but it was his saving grace. Her name. Over and over, never ending and repeating forever. Over and over until he found her. And god have mercy on whoever had taken her. He sure wouldn't.

* * *

The End.

* * *

E/N: So, that's it for Secondhand Furniture and Rented Rooms. "Far Too Long" will be up soon. Please review!


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